


...And You Will See

by AislingSiobhan



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Asgardian Homophobia, Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Frostiron Bang 2015, Kidnapping, Kissing, Loki makes you work for it, M/M, No AOU, References to Oral Sex, References to Sleipnir’s conception, Slash, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AislingSiobhan/pseuds/AislingSiobhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>…(it wasn’t until after the fact, when JARVIS played the incident back for him that Tony thought maybe Loki might have thought Tony was mocking him, fucking around with his emotions for some nefarious purpose, instead of the impulsive “don’t kill me” response the kiss had actually been). Everything else was peripheral. All Tony heard was “kiss me”. So he did… The next time it happened was on purpose though, and the time after that, and the next time, and Tony kinda (but actually really) wanted it to happen again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...And You Will See

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the accompanying art: http://horns-of-mischief.tumblr.com/post/132593511853/my-contribution-to-frostiron-bang-an-illustration with thanks to the wonderful Rinelin/Horns of Mischief

Here's my contribution (and also the first thing I've wrote in idk how many months, sigh, sorry). Enjoy :) 

**“And You Will See”**

**Disclaimer:** The Avengers, Tony, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.  
**Summary:** [Tony/Loki] …(it wasn’t until after the fact, when JARVIS played the incident back for him that Tony thought maybe Loki might have thought Tony was mocking him, fucking around with his emotions for some nefarious purpose, instead of the impulsive “don’t kill me” response the kiss had actually been). Everything else was peripheral. All Tony heard was “kiss me”. So he did… The next time it happened was on purpose though, and the time after that, and the next time, and Tony kinda (but actually really) wanted it to happen again.  
**Warnings:** Slash. Loki/Tony. Frostiron Bang. AU. Tumblr prompt. No AOU. Kidnapping. Tony’s foul mouth. Minor canon violence. Kissing. References to oral sex. Asgardian Homophobia. References to Sleipnir’s conception. Loki makes you work for it.  
**Rating:**  
**A/N:** Based on this prompt, but not exactly: _“anonymous asked: Loki is about to kill Tony. Tony kisses Loki for the hell of it before he can. Loki is so shocked that he doesn't kill Tony. He drops him like he's been burned in fact. Then it happens again. Tony learns he's quite okay with bartering his mouth (and other parts of him) to a God if it keeps him kicking. (Loki learns it's all fun and games until someone starts getting fond...)_ https://www.tumblr.com/reblog/112789521692/HKHoySOP?redirect_to=%2Fdashboard”  
**Title** : Taken from this quote: “Kiss me, and you will see how important I am,” by Sylvia Plath.  
**Author:** aislingsiobhan  
**Bang** : Mini

_XXX_

**Words:** 7,956  
**Chapter 1**  
Most, if not all, stories end with “and they lived happily ever after”. 

That part of the story usually starts with a kiss. Some kisses are soft and dry, some are rough and messy; others are hesitant, unsure, more are about taking what you can before the other person changes their mind. Some kisses leave you breathless, gaping and shaking; some are so sweet they make you cry, others make you hungry. Some kisses are passionate, some are pure: ‘some kisses leave all others behind’. 

This kiss left Loki reeling. 

But not for any of the reasons one might think. He wasn’t breathless, or nervous, he didn’t want more… nor less if he was going to be honest about it. It wasn’t his first kiss, and it wouldn’t be his last either, so there was nothing special about it – nothing magical. He hadn’t asked for it, and he had certainly not been waiting his entire life (or a mortal’s lifetime, instead, perhaps) for this one specific kiss from this one specific person, so there was nothing to be relived or thankful or _pleased_ for. Yet, when Tony Stark kissed him, Loki’s brain short-circuited for half a minute. 

It felt longer, it felt like forever, and as Tony stared at him with wide brown eyes, Loki could do nothing but gape in return. Around them, his golems continued to attack anyone still stupid enough to be caught in public, alternatingly smashing a different Avenger into the closest hard surface; a couple of them even crumbled to dust and dirt when a miraculous shot managed to sever their heads. People screamed, running frantic like ants whose hill had been set upon by teenagers with firecrackers, and Loki had been laughing along with them, a chorus to their terrified songs. But now he stood silently, green eyes so wide Tony thought they might simply roll out of his head, and his mouth hanging open in surprise. Slowly, the longer Tony simply stared at him, silent and not at all sorry (though he was _surprised_ by his own action), a slight flush spread across Loki’s cheeks and down his throat: a blush, from embarrassment or anger, Tony wasn’t sure. He opened his mouth to check, but Loki disappeared. 

A flash of green: then nothing. No Loki, no more golems, no more destruction. The screaming continued, and the Hulk kept roaring, turning in full circles, trying to find something or someone else to smash and the Avengers kept their distance. Each of them glanced up at the balcony Tony and Loki had been fighting on, and Tony glanced down at them in turn. He shrugged once, though it wasn’t as obvious as he intended it to be, considering the bulk of his Iron Man suit disguised most of his subtler movements. He didn’t give any other response though, and he continued to ignore Steve’s attempts to contact him on the comms. 

“JARVIS,” he murmured, fingers coming up to scratch thoughtfully at his exposed chin before he flipped the face plate back down. “Remind me to… do something about this…” He didn’t know what, and he didn’t want to think about it too hard right now, but maybe later once he had managed to consume a bottle of bourbon inspiration might strike him. Tony was always open to new projects, especially on the nights he couldn’t sleep (or wouldn’t sleep) and exhaustion and alcohol combined to inspire him to change the world. For good or bad, his brain didn’t usually differentiate, but if it made Loki retreat, it had to be good, right? 

_XXX_

Tony had actually forgotten all about kissing Loki. He’d ended up ordering Chinese and hanging out with the other Avengers until the very early morning. Too much alcohol, good food and some cheesy movies on the TV resulted in him falling asleep spread out across Clint on the couch, head and shoulders on the archer’s lap. Clint slept with his head hanging over the back of the couch and his feet dangling around Steve, sitting on the floor between them. Steve had eventually gone to his own bed, but his attempts to wake Tony had been futile, and Clint had squinted his left eye open and glared until Steve stopped talking and left. Tony had woken to Bruce tickling his feet and Barton awkwardly sliding out from under his head simultaneously, and immediately headed towards the wonderful breakfast scents that had reached the living room from the kitchen. Food was had, again, and coffee, and then more coffee, and the ‘Loki incident’ was put right out of his mind. 

For a week, at least, until the call to assemble came in the middle of Tony’s third attempt to create a suit that _knew_ when it was needed without having to be called for. Bleary eyed and smudged with oil and grease, Iron Man had joined the fight. 

Or, at least, he tried to. 

The suit hadn’t even finished assembling around him, before a pale, long-fingered hand was ripping chunks of it away. The face plate went first, thrown into the corner of the room, followed by the plating that protected Tony’s neck, then fingers curled around his wrists, tearing at the gauntlets and twisting them with a shriek of protesting metal. Tony cried out, first in shock and then pain as the metal ground against his skin, bruising bone and making him bleed. 

“You would dare!” Loki hissed, eyes narrowed and mouth drawn into a thin, tight line. Tony wondered briefly if the God could spit venom, because he looked about a second away from doing so when his hand suddenly closed around Tony’s bare throat and squeezed. It was so similar to another time, the only other time Loki’s hand had been around his throat that Tony found himself suddenly unable to breathe. 

Loki’s fingers weren’t that tight, yet; but the air just wouldn’t come. Tony’s lungs tried, but his brain just wouldn’t work right, instead his brain was remembering the last time, the scream that had escaped him, the rush of air as he flew through the glass and towards the ground, the jerk and pain in each of his limbs as the suit caught up with him and caught him out of the air, pulling him back up and up and up before his heart had caught up with his brain and it was only the oxygen filtration system in the suit that kept Tony’s lungs working. He could see it, playing out in front of him like watching a movie on a flat screen. Tony’s eyes were open, but he could still see it. Any second now, Loki would throw him. He could already see his back breaking the glass that surrounded the penthouse. Loki would throw him, again, and Tony would fall and fall and he didn’t have his bracelets – no suit would catch him this time. 

Tony was going to fall. 

Loki was still talking. Hissing something about “making a fool of him”, and vaguely Tony’s brain commuted that it probably had something to do with that one kiss, that one time. It was one of those subconscious instinctual things people sometimes did, hearing something and remembering it even though they weren’t listening. But it did nothing to calm him down, or help his lungs remember how to work or to keep back the tears that were suddenly weighing down his lashes (and Loki looked oh so smug about that fact). Tony’s voice wasn’t working either; his heart had lodged in his throat and words weren’t coming up and air wasn’t going down and hysterically a part of him hoped he might lose consciousness before he hit the ground. 

“-kiss me? A prince! You?” Loki continued to rant. He sounded less angry than he looked, his face furiously twisted and the scowl was enough to make Tony’s knees shake and knock together even in the suit. His voice, though, sounded a little more embarrassed than Loki’s countenance indicated it should. Even a tiny bit offended?

Tony didn’t hear any of that at the time though (it wasn’t until after the fact, when JARVIS played the incident back for him that Tony thought maybe Loki might have thought Tony was mocking him, fucking around with his emotions for some nefarious purpose, instead of the impulsive “don’t kill me” response the kiss had actually been). Everything else was peripheral. 

All Tony heard was “kiss me”. 

So he did. 

His lips met Loki’s, and it was only because Loki wasn’t expecting him to struggle that Tony managed to get his face close enough. The sharp edges of the face plate hit against Loki’s chin and cheek, cut deeper into Tony’s forehead, as Tony crushed his mouth to Loki’s. The God went still beneath the touch; barely breathing, eyes unblinking. With a sudden exhale, air warm against Tony’s wet face, Loki shoved Tony away (but not out of the window at least) and vanished in a flash of green light.

Tony lay, sprawled across the floor, pieces of the suit strewn around him, and he waited. Loki didn’t come back, and after fifteen minutes of staring, blinking away the tears time and time again, every noise frightening the moisture back into his eyes, Tony shakily pressed a finger against the working comm unit in his left ear. It was JARVIS that activated it, but the motion was habitual, soothing and repetitive. Tony kept his finger to his ear while he spoke. 

“Cap?” It came out hoarse and trembling, so Tony cleared his throat loudly (ignoring the ache it caused and trying not to visualise the bruises that would be there in the morning) and tried again. “Hey Cap, you there?”

“Yeah,” a voice responded, full of annoyance tinged relief, and Tony imagined Steve’s blue eyes doing that “for God’s sake” roll thing they did whenever Tony annoyed him and Steve couldn’t help but be amused by it. “Yeah, I’m here. Where are you?”

“Got held up.” He had to clear his throat again, because he literally had been _held_ up, he had the bruises to show for it, and the inches between his feet and the floor earlier suddenly appeared again, between his mouth and his lungs, stretching the distance. He couldn’t breathe, and it took five minutes of Steve calling his name, growing progressively more harried sounding, before Tony could continue. “Loki decided to swing by the Tower. I can be on my way as soon as I change the Suit, if you need me?”

“No. No,” Steve said, pausing to sigh. Tony could practically see the hand that came up to rub at his eyes; the motion familiar and soothing, even though he couldn’t actually _see_ it. “Nothing is happening here. We assembled, but no one turned up. I guess, now we know why.”

“Distraction? Huh.” Tony cut the comm without another word, figuring Steve and the others would be back soon enough. He’d have to think of something to tell them to explain Loki’s crazier than normal behaviour, because “I kissed him ‘cause I panicked and Loki got his knickers in a twist ‘bout it” wasn’t going to fly with Fury. Or, maybe, his throat would swell up some more and Tony wouldn’t be able to say anything at all? 

“One can hope,” he muttered to himself, as he shuffled his way towards the landing bay outside. After Loki’s ‘modifications’ there was no way the suit was going to be able to take itself off: JARVIS was ready and waiting when Tony stepped onto the platform and spread out his arms. 

_XXX_

The building had come down on him rather unexpectedly. A little rude of it actually, if anyone asked Tony what he thought about it. The building had stayed up while Tony herded groups of civilians outside, group after group, but when he went back in to double check that he hadn’t missed anyone, _then_ it had decided to collapse. Actually, it was less the building’s fault, and more the fault of the flash of green light that slithered like a snake along the doorframe and pulled, writhing and wriggling around the frame where it met the ceiling until plaster and cement was falling around Tony’s head. 

“LOKI!” Tony shouted. His arms were over his head, unnecessarily he realised as he lowered them, because none of the debris came close to touching him. He was trapped inside the building, but he was unhurt. Unfortunately, he also wasn’t alone. 

“Yes?” The God murmured, voice low and eyelids half closed. He looked like a cat mid-pet, unsure if he wanted to sink down and purr or if he wanted to take a swipe with claws out. 

“Let me out of here!” Tony demanded. It had been a month since he had last seen Loki, and even then, two weeks had passed between that meeting and the ‘hyperventilating incident’ at the Tower. The last time they had met, Tony had kissed Loki too. And Loki had left. Again. Tony wasn’t quite sure if the same would work now, because Loki was one) keeping a fair distance between them and two) sort of looked like he wanted to be kissed? He kept licking his lips, and fluttering his eyelashes, and swinging his hips as he paced back and forth in front of the collapsed doorway, turning sharply and somehow managing to bare his throat with every pass without looking like an absolute twat. It made Tony want to sink his teeth into the column of pale flesh and see if Loki moaned or whined in response (he was betting on whining, high pitched and needy, and he’d probably bow his back too, thrust up against--- ok moving on). 

Loki had apparently learnt what Tony’s secret weapon was, and had maybe even thought of a way to fight back: fire with fire, kisses with… what did you do to people who kissed you without warning? Loki had already shoved him, choked him, beat him up, defenestrated him and destroyed a handful of his Iron Man suits. What else could he do? 

“I think not.” Loki’s voice was soft and sly, his eyes had slitted until Tony could only see a glimpse of the green that was Loki’s irises. He looked like he was trying to intimidate Tony but was finding it hard to keep a straight face. His lips curved up into a grin that made Tony cringe- wide, and sharp, and full of teeth. It made Tony think of Loki biting into him (he was a moaning kind of man, and Loki struck him as a biter). 

“You are welcome to try and make me however.” The way Loki said it made Tony certain that Loki wanted to be kissed. 

Tony rolled his shoulders, as much as he could in the suit, and briefly contemplated the pros and cons of his plan. Getting the hell out of this building won out over any of his concerns (but also, he’d get to kiss Loki again, though he told himself that _wasn’t_ why he was going along with Loki’s rather obvious plan). The face plate flipped up with little more than a thought and a hiss of air. Tony crossed the distance between them quickly, before he could change his mind, and with both hands on Loki’s suddenly stiff shoulders, leant forward for a kiss. Before their mouths could meet, Loki shoved Tony away. 

“Wha-?” Tony tried to ask, but before he could finish the word, Loki had closed the distance again. This time _Loki_ kissed Tony. It was a brief peck, mouths closed and dry, but Loki looked so fucking smug when he pulled away that Tony couldn’t help but up the ante. He grabbed Loki’s shoulder with his right hand and tugged, until the God (who allowed himself to be) pressed up against him, chest to suit chest plate, and then Tony kissed him again. When Loki opened his mouth to complain, Tony snuck his tongue passed his parted lips and ran the length of his teeth. His tongue had about a nanosecond to brush against Loki’s own tongue before the God had tensed again, but this time Tony was ready. Arms clung tight to Loki’s shoulders as that familiar green light appeared around them, and as Loki disappeared from the building, Tony hung on for the ride. 

_XXX_

Tony ended up flat on his back in Antarctica, but Loki left the suit in one piece this time. So, once Loki had finished ranting and raving and had disappeared for a second time, Tony flew back to the Tower. The face plate, whose golden paint was actually set into a scowl, was firmly closed and hiding the smug smirk that Tony couldn’t have wiped off of his face even if his life had depended on it. 

_XXX_

Another month passed. Tony had started to get the feeling that Loki was avoiding him. Tony went to Malibu for a week and Loki trashed the Guggenheim and MOMA and hit up an art auction over on Seventh. But the moment Tony got back to Manhattan the Asgardian was persona non grata. Well, ok, he was always unwelcome (except in Tony’s fantasies and dreams-nightmares, nightmares, he meant nightmares). Now, too, he was hardly ever seen. Sometimes Tony thought he caught a flash of green and gold out of the corner of his eyes, but there was never anyone or anything there when he turned around, and JARVIS hadn’t caught anyone either the few times it happened in the Tower. Thor occasionally looked unusually contemplative when it happened, so maybe Tony wasn’t completely crazy yet? 

But, yeah, no Loki. None. Nada. 

Until now. 

Fortunately for Tony (who was a bit busy being chained to the wall otherwise he would have been so out of there already), Loki wasn’t the person who had kidnapped him. Unfortunately for Tony, Loki was chained up beside him, so whoever managed to catch the Trickster was probably not someone Tony was going to be able to fight sans-suit. Their chains were long enough to sit on the floor and stand back up again, and reach the middle of the bare room they had been locked inside where two bowls sat waiting. One was full of water and the other something that looks like porridge but smelt like death, if death had an unpleasant, hunger-preventing odour. Loki was still unconscious. Tony was hungry (despite the offensive smell of the only food source). The problem was that the chains that bound them were connected to each other, so while Loki was lying down Tony needed to stay standing up, and he couldn’t quite reach the bowls without Loki getting up to his knees (or knocking the contexts across the floor in an attempt). 

Waking Loki wasn’t something Tony wanted to do. Nor did Tony want to risk Loki eating and drinking everything and leaving him to go hungry (he had seen Thor eat; it was a valid concern). So, figuring he might as well give it a go, Tony stretched forward as far as he could go. When that didn’t work, he slumped back against the wall, arms up over his head as he slid lower and lower, fingers curled around the chains to keep him from falling to the floor (as he tied to ignore the burn in his shoulders and the ache around his wrists). His shoe got in the way, so Tony stood up straight again and toed them off, one after the other: he tried again. This time, his toes on his right foot curled around the edge of the plastic tray, and he tugged. Light and slow, careful not to spill the water in the left bowl, careful not to turn over the right bowl either. The tray was almost in reach, so fucking close, and then Loki woke up.

He jerked awake with a gasp, hands flying out to defend himself, springing to his feet instinctively, and the only reason Loki managed it was because Tony was slumped so low already. Tony landed in an ungainly (pained) pile, ass bruised as much as his pride, and Loki’s green magic landed in the middle of the plastic tray. Which, fucking typically, exploded into pieces of wet plastic and sticky, smelly gruel. 

“I was going to eat that,” Tony told him woodenly. He wanted to be angry, he did, but he was hungry and cold and thirsty and his butt and shoulders hurt. But Loki was awake now, so it was Loki’s problem as well as his, because surely they were going to escape together, right?

“And pray tell why would you think that?” Loki drawled, looking calmer than he had when he woke. 

Tony blinked slowly. Blinked again, and then realised he must have spoken out loud. “You wouldn’t leave me here, though,” Tony began to say, and trailed off at the raised eyebrow Loki offered him in return. “How would I kiss you again if you left me here?” The engineer tried instead, working up the energy to spread a familiar cocky grin across his chapped lips. Loki’s expression closed off. 

If Tony had thought Loki looked calm and unaffected earlier, it was nothing to how he looked now. There was nothing familiar about Loki now; straight lips, clear eyes, blank face with no hint of an embarrassed or angry flush on pale cheeks. So before Loki could really lose his temper (because it was bound to happen at some point and the furrow that was slowly forming between his eyebrows sort of hinted that “some point” was going to be “now”), Tony shuffled up onto his knees. He could manage it, if he kept his arms at his sides or chest level, but he couldn’t raise them any higher unless Loki slumped back against the wall (fucking tall bastard! Tony thought uncharitably). 

“How about I make it worth your while?” Tony offered, sounding coy and breathless (or hoarse from dehydration? Whatever, he thought with a mental roll of his eyes, Loki wouldn’t know any different). His face met Loki’s crotch, before the God could form a complaint, and though the furrow between his brows was replaced by a flush and a moue, Tony failed to find the zipper to clasp it between his teeth. So he nuzzled instead, cheek and stubble against buttery leather, the scent of Loki strong in his nose and when Tony panted wetly over the slowly forming hardness beneath his mouth, he thought he might be able to taste Loki too. “Open your pants, Loki,” Tony ordered, voice sure and strong. His hands couldn’t reach, and Loki’s couldn’t either, but Loki could have used magic. 

Instead of doing as he was told, Loki asked, “what do you want from me?”

His voice was soft, uncertain, and Tony pulled back from Loki’s crotch to glance up at the God warily. Wide green eyes narrowed as they met Tony’s gaze, his mouth pulled down into a frown before pressing tightly together, turning pink lips almost white. “I was going to suck your cock?” Tony wasn’t sure if he was telling or asking, so he offered a shrug to accompany the words. 

“Why? What do you want?”

“Well,” Tony said softly, eyes narrowing as he thought about it, “I want to go home, and I want you to bring me home, but I also kinda wanna suck your cock?” He paused, blinked twice (if Loki were human he might have said that was the moment a light bulb lit up over Tony’s head, but he didn’t, as he wasn’t, and didn’t know that phrase). “Actually,” Tony corrected as a sly grin stretched his lips wide enough to flash teeth, “I _really_ want to suck your cock. Take off your pants, Loki.” 

Loki didn’t take off his pants. But he brought Tony with him when he escaped. Their chains hit the ground with a loud clanking, the green that had surrounded them disappeared long before their captors arrived to check up on them, and Tony found himself waking up in his own bed with no idea how he had gotten there. He wasn’t wearing pants, though his boxers remained in place, so he had _some_ idea of the how, but not the why.

It was time to find out. 

_XXX_

At a reasonable hour the next day (or in Tony’s case, about 2pm because that’s when he woke up sans-pants in his own bed), Tony tracked Thor down. He could have started the conversation any number of ways, could have explained himself, or made an attempt at subtlety, or even good manners. But Thor was nose deep in a box of Pop Tarts (that looked kinda empty) and there was an empty carafe of coffee beside him, so Tony assumed the God was suitably satisfied with his day. His mood should reflect that, right? So, ignoring everything he _should_ have said, Tony called across the kitchen loudly, “Hey Gigantor, any tips on fucking your brother?”

Unsurprisingly, Thor dropped the box of Pop Tarts. 

“I really want to, that is,” Tony continued, oblivious (or not as oblivious as he pretended to be as he made himself a cup of coffee) to the darkening scowl on Thor’s face. The furrow hadn’t appeared between his brows yet (and that must have been a family trait, adoption or no adoption) so Tony figured it wasn’t quite yet time to run for cover. “But I’m not sure how to go about it? I offered to suck him off yesterday, and he took off my pants? But there was no sucking involved? Do I have to buy him dinner first, or is he a flowers and chocolates kinda Æsir?”

“Áss,” Natasha corrected quietly from the kitchen table. Tony hadn’t even noticed her, but that was par for the norm with the Black Widow. Tony opened his mouth, but having predicted the indignant complaint, Natasha continued, “Singular. Æsir, plural.”

“I knew that!” Tony waved her off with a grin. Ignoring Clint’s “but he is an ass” because he was the bigger fucking person, dammit, Tony moved across the kitchen until he was standing beside Thor. The engineer pulled out a second box of Pop Tarts, that he had hidden for special occasions such as sucking up to Big Brother, and handed them over in silence. Tony waited until Thor’s fingers closed around the box and then grinned. “Well?”

“I would speak to you in private,” Thor responded, solemn and stiff, arms folding across his chest after placing the box unopened onto the counter top. Two pairs of raised eyebrows met Clint and Natasha’s unmoved stares, but eventually the red haired assassin gracefully slid out of her chair, and dragged, less gracefully, their fellow assassin from the room. “What are your intentions regarding Loki?”

“Really? We’re doing this?” Tony glanced around the room, half convinced Loki was watching and mocking from a shadowy corner or the others were piled in the threshold laughing at his expense. There was no one there, so Tony turned his face back to Thor and said, “I don’t know? I panicked, couple months ago, and kissed him. He let me go. I did it again. Loki let me go again. And again. The last time, Loki kissed me, but when I tried again he took off. We got kidnapped yesterday; we weren’t gone long,” Tony added frantically when Thor’s hand moved to the handle of Mjölnir, “but Loki, well, we were chained kind of in a specific way, you know, so I tried to, uh, and Loki freaked out? I don’t even know, I woke up here in bed, but Loki was gone, but he didn’t leave me behind I guess, so he must not have been too pissed off with me? But I really would like to… get in his pants, so to speak, or get them off of him. Tips, comments, suggestions?” 

Thor’s adam’s apple convulsed. Blue eyes narrowed. Fingers clenched around opposite elbows twice before Thor unfolded his arms, and the air left his nose loudly, like someone had squeezed him too hard around the middle. It was how Thor sighed, and Tony flinched at the disappointment he could practically smell oozing from the God. 

“Why?” Thor’s voice was angry now, posture still stiff, but tone confrontational; teeth grinding. “So you can mock him afterwards? Unman him and crow about it to all who would listen? You would dishonour him, he who is my brother, when we are supposed to be friends? Why, Stark?” 

There was no “friend” before the “Stark”, like there usually was, and Tony flinched again. 

“No?” It was too much of a question for Thor to accept, even though Tony hadn’t been planning on mocking Loki, or actually telling anyone at all (damn Clint and Natasha for being so sneaky and eating so quietly). But obviously unsatisfied with the answer, Thor brushed passed him, bumping purposefully against Tony’s shoulder. Tony hissed, muscles sore from stretching in the chains to reach the bowls and from Loki’s sudden waking pulling the chains taunt over him. Thor didn’t so much as wince in apology, let alone say sorry, as he left. 

“Great talk!” Tony shouted at his back. “We should do it again sometime,” he added quieter than before, taking a sip of his now cold coffee as he thought about what the fuck was his life lately. 

He should just let it go, tell Thor it was a joke in poor taste (he should probably tell Clint that anyway in case the archer tried to kill Tony in his sleep). Should just ignore Loki the next time the God appeared, fight him off if he couldn’t ignore him, but definitely keep their lips far, far apart. Tony knew he should just let it go; the problem was he didn’t _want_ to, and he was so very used to getting what he wanted that his brain just wouldn’t accept the possibility. No meant no, sure it did, but Loki hadn’t said no. Loki had kissed _him_ last month, for fuck sake! Kissing someone was _not_ saying no! The other problem Tony had was that he didn’t know why Loki wouldn’t want to kiss him? He had offered a no-strings-attached blowjob (ok strings attached, since Tony wanted Loki to rescue him, but since Loki was going to rescue himself anyway it wasn’t such a herculean task that Loki should count it against him): who said no to a blowjob? 

Loki did apparently. And that was fine. Good for him and his better form of self-restraint or higher moral ground or whatever the fuck it was. Tony wasn’t going to feel bad or ashamed about offering, or wanting, it. And he did want it, very much, but all of a sudden, Thor’s words were finally being heard and—

“Unmanned?” Tony muttered out loud. He glanced up at the far corner of the kitchen, where JARVIS’ sensor was hidden behind a fancy wall light, and frowned. “Any idea, buddy?”

“I will let you know what I find, Sir,” came the solemn promise from the only person in the world Tony actually understood. Tony rolled his eyes at the thought, and consoled himself that at least he hadn’t built Sky-Net, so there was that. 

“Thanks, J,” Tony muttered. He made himself another cup of coffee, waited and drank in silence, made a second cup and wandered down to his lab, lost himself in work and thought and the familiar movements of his hands and tools and the peculiar dance routine he had developed to avoid Dum-E running over his toes in the bot’s eagerness to help. Tony forgot all about JARVIS’ research and about Thor’s words. He forgot that two members of the Avengers had heard most of their conversation, knew he had kissed Loki. Knew he wanted to do more than that with Loki, at least. Steve had probably been told, or Fury, but Tony didn’t think of that. They were all out of sight, out of mind. 

Tony didn’t see the paper the printer spat out, or the pale fingers that closed around the edge of the top sheet and tugged it free. He didn’t notice that JARVIS was suspiciously quiet when Tony casually spoke aloud, not responding sarcastically or cautiously as was their way, even when Tony didn’t require or listen to a response. He certainly didn’t notice Loki, half hidden in the corner of the workshop, steeped in shadows and magic, all in black for once, but teeth sharp and white like the Cheshire Cat’s in the darkness as he grinned widely. 

With magic, Loki added a note to the back of the page, before putting it back on top of the others at the printer. Then he left, green swirling around his feet and hands, and the shadows churned like they were trying to keep him in place, caught for their master’s pleasure, and Loki laughed at the analogy. His laugh had Tony’s head snapping up fast enough that the engineer hissed at the pain of it. Calloused fingers rubbed over the back of his neck, kneading sore flesh, as he glanced warily around the workshop. There was no one there, but it felt like all of those other times Tony had been convinced someone (Loki, he knew it was Loki, no matter what anyone else said) had been watching him. 

“Nothing unusual was recorded, Sir,” JARVIS reported when questioned. So, Tony let _that_ go, but it reminded him of Loki however, and of the research JARVIS had been doing. He grabbed the paper from the printer and started reading. 

_XXX_

So, apparently Asgard was full of homophobic pricks. Go figure. Tony rolled his eyes for the nth time as he skimmed through the papers JARVIS had printed for him. Sheet 49 of 87 and so far he’d growled seven times, hissed twice, kicked the desk beside him once (cause that hurt, so he wasn’t going to do it again, no thank you), slammed his coffee cup down twice, spilt coffee once, and thrown the cup at Dum-E (apologized for that once), made another cup of coffee, and rolled his eyes 14 times in annoyance. Mostly, he was trying to find something to do to avoid going outside and screaming abuse at the sky in the hopes that Odin would hear him (on the off chance that Odin really did hear him, cause angry as he was, that was a fight Tony could admit he wouldn’t win). 

“This is bullshit,” he muttered, having gotten through the paragraph about Loki whoring himself out for a wall? Tony snorted, as he scrunched up that sheet of paper and chucked it at the bin. He missed. 

“Better have been a fucking fantastic wall,” he groused, “made of rainbows and fucking happy dreams or some shit.” Asgard got a wall, and Loki got screwed (literally) by a horse, pregnant if the internet could be trusted, and ridiculed for being ‘unmanned’ and ‘easy’ (or rather the Asgardian equivalent – at least Tony assumed that was what a “slagg” was). Loki kind of got screwed over a lot, and Tony wasn’t even half way through the stuff JARVIS had dug up for him. 

He was starting to get an idea about why Thor had been so mad at him though. Maybe, Tony decided, it would be a good idea not to pursue Loki. People raised like that, no matter how gorgeous, had to be pretty messed up? Crazy, mass murdering, world invading mess aside… Tony couldn’t imagine Loki as the love ‘em and leave ‘em type and Tony wasn’t really the poster child for commitment and monogamy. Maybe he should stop now, before Loki went all Glenn Close/Fatal Attraction on his ass? 

Fingers brushed over his bottom lip, touch soft; hesitant. Tony thought about Loki kissing him, and Loki’s voice all soft and unsure as he asked what Tony wanted from him… and what the fuck did Tony want from him other than more kisses? (Yes, there was the cock sucking too, but other than that?) Was there anything other than that? Because if there was nothing else, then what was the point: but, if there was, would it be worth the trouble, Tony wondered. Green eyes bright, pink lips stretched into a teeth-baring smirk, cheeks flushed, the scent of leather and musk strong in Tony’s nostrils, the bulge obvious beneath his cheek… Loki’s hands shaking, fingers clenching, and Tony’s _need_ to reach out and catch them, to squeeze, to hold: to have. Yes, he thought, yes, he wanted more. 

Tony shuffled the papers again and kept reading. 38 more pages of bullshit to go… 

_XXX_

Two weeks passed. 

Thor refused to talk to Tony. Tony, being petty and sort of childish, left the room whenever Thor walked in. So everyone thought Tony wasn’t talking to Thor, and kept giving him those disappointed, disapproving glances, like this was his fault? Fucking traitors, Tony thought as he slunk out of the kitchen and into the lift that led to his lab. 

“I should start being extra nice, JARVIS, that’d teach him,” Tony muttered as he waited for JARVIS to close the doors. 

The lift started to move, and a voice asked softly, “teach who?”

Tony froze. He knew that voice. Tony couldn’t see him without moving his head, and he was afraid to in case Loki disappeared on him again (they’d been playing this ‘I spy, out of the corner of my eyes’ game for the last nine days and so far Tony kept losing). He moved his eyes as far right as they would go, wincing at the pain in his head that accompanied the movement, and caught a glimpse of gold and green and black: a silhouette of colours and shadow. 

“How are you?” Tony asked softly, still keeping his face averted. 

“Did you read my note?” Loki asked in lieu of answering. 

Tony’s eyebrows crinkled, lines drawing themselves between them as he thought about it, tried to remember. He hadn’t seen a note anywhere in the lab, but maybe it was new? Maybe Loki had left it there while Tony went upstairs for coffee? He stayed silent until the elevator doors slid open again, and before they had finished the motion Tony squeezed himself through the gap. Hands ran along the length of his work bench, and then his desk, and he even pried open Dum-E’s claw in case the bot was holding on to the note for him. 

“No,” Tony admitted softly, “I didn’t.” He couldn’t find the note; otherwise he would have read it. 

Loki’s lips quirked up at the corners. The God moved slowly until he was standing in front of Tony, eyes slit (like a cat being petted), and his smirk a familiar sight: it made Tony’s chest hurt to see it aimed at him again. “Here,” the Asgardian said, indicating at the printer beside him, “I left it here.”

Tony didn’t respond verbally. Instead he scrambled to the other side of the room, where all of those crumbled up pieces of paper had ended up being thrown a fortnight ago. Most had been cleaned up, by Dum-E or U or Butterfingers, swept away or thrown out with the trash, but some had rolled under desks and cabinets and his bots hadn’t been able to reach them. The cleaning crew didn’t come down to his lab, and Tony wasn’t too bothered about trash that wouldn’t start to rot and stink, so a few sheets remained where they had been thrown; sad, discarded reminders of Loki’s painful life. Tony had been happy to throw them away, but now he fished them out, unrolling them, checking front and back of each of them. 87 pages, and only ten left behind. But of course Tony couldn’t be that lucky. Life just wasn’t that fair. 

“Sorry?” The human offered with a half roll of his shoulders, almost a shrug, but there was too much slouch in it. Loki’s eyes narrowed for a split second, before his expression softened out. Green eyes rolled, amused and bright, and with four brisk steps, Loki was face to face with Tony: close enough to touch. 

“What do you want from me?”

“You’ve asked me that already. I answered.” Tony grinned, wide and smug, and thought about kissing Loki again (instead of thinking about never knowing what Loki had wrote down for him to read). 

“The note,” the God explained, slowly and softly, as if talking to a particularly dense child. “I asked you what you wanted from me.” 

Tony remembered his last response, and he considered repeating it, because all of this was a bad idea and he had no idea and he wanted but he didn’t know what. But Tony also remembered everything on those 87 pages that he had read, all of the extra tid-bits JARVIS had been letting drop over the past fortnight, and the anger drawn in every line of Thor’s body when he spat the word ‘unmanned’ across the kitchen like a curse. He remembered flashes of Loki out of the corner of his eyes, shadowing him, watching him (curious, but wary, like a dog that had been beaten one too many times, and wasn’t that the best description of Loki that had ever been made? Beaten by Asgard, by Thor, by life - by Tony?) Tony swallowed back the sarcasm and the humour and the smile that didn’t reach his eyes anyway, and after a deep sigh he opened his mouth to answer. 

Loki interrupted him. “I’ve been researching too,” the God told him softly, almost shyly, as if unsure that was actually allowed. “Your planet is very different to my own.” As if that was new information to Tony, the human hummed and nodded, appearing concerned and serious. Loki was finally addressing the homophobic elephant in the throne room (or wherever they kept it, out of sight and out of mind, don’t ask don’t tell, or whatever) and Tony was curious (and concerned because some people weren’t as enlightened or liberal as him) as to what Loki had found. 

“It is not- you were not- uh,” Loki cut off abruptly, cleared his throat, and tried again, “were you mocking me?”

“No,” came the simple, honest answer. Tony sighed. He wanted to roll his eyes, to grin, to do anything to hide how uncomfortable the thought of this conversation was making him right then, but that wouldn’t have helped. So he turned his face away, staring at the bin and re-scrunching up the ten sheets of papers he had rescued. One after one he threw them, six of them missed. “I panicked the first time, and your face was so close and I didn’t know what else to do? I thought I was going to die, you know? The second time you were shouting something and I was panicking again and all I heard was ‘kiss me’. So, I did, I guess? Obviously you weren’t telling me to kiss you, but imminent death, anxiety attack, blah blah blah, whatever.” Tony shrugged, bringing his hands up in the ‘what can you do’ gesture to accompany the movement. He turned his face just slightly, just enough to see the smile that had settled on Loki’s mouth. 

“That was then,” the God said, smile growing wider, “what do you want from me now?”

“Still wanna suck your cock,” Tony told him before he could stop himself. He bit down on his tongue, using the sharp burst of pain and the tartness of his blood to distract himself before he could dig that hole any deeper. “I want to kiss you. I don’t know? I was going to buy you dinner, but then I thought you might like chocolate more, and Thor wouldn’t tell me, so I didn’t get you either. Sorry? I can buy you dinner now, I mean, if you want that? If you prefer desert though we can do that? Get some drinks, talk, see how it goes? You know, date.” Loki stayed silent for a while after Tony finished speaking. Eventually, the silence started to bother the human, and he turned around expecting Loki to have disappeared into thin air again or to be huddled against the far wall, hackles raised. But the God was still there, and what’s more, when Tony turned around they were standing face to face, close enough that Tony could feel Loki’s breath, warm and sweet smelling, on his face. 

“I like liquorice,” the engineer muttered, eyes fluttering closed. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Loki warned surely. There was no hesitation when Loki’s mouth met his. Like the last time Loki had instigated a kiss, he was calm and sure and certain: wanting Tony, wanting the kiss. Tony hesitated for a moment, wondering if he kissed back would Loki shove him away; but then hands were tangling into his hair, tilting his head to the side so Loki could better angle their mouths together, and Tony’s hands suddenly had a life of their own. They fisted into the collar of Loki’s tunic, tugged the God down as he surged up onto the balls of his feet, tongue probing at Loki’s lips and teeth, a loud moan escaping him as Loki all but sagged into his arms. 

When they pulled apart, Tony was panting. Loki was less affected, but there was a pleasant flush across his cheeks and down his throat, and his lips were wet and swollen from the kiss. Green eyes were wide, and they stared down at Tony with an emotion he couldn’t put his finger on. However Loki didn’t move away and he didn’t push at Tony’s shoulder or pry the fingers off of his collar either, so Tony considered it to be a win. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Tony asked, instead of simply leaning in again like the last time. He waited for a nod, which came slowly, with a thinning of Loki’s lips as if he were still trying to decide or trying to stop himself from smiling. 

When they separated for the second time, Loki asked again “what do you want?” 

“I want to kiss you,” Tony told him, and so he did. They kissed, softly and carefully, and then harsher, leaving Tony’s bottom lip bleeding when Loki bit it and pulled off with a moan, before leaning forward to lick the blood away. Tony groaned at the action, cock hardening and something exploding low in his abdomen, a rush of lust and need and _want_ bubbling across his insides. Hands tugged Loki closer by the waist, before sliding up into his hair. Long pale fingers tangled into the cloth of Tony’s shirt, one beside the arc reactor and the other at Tony’s shoulder, holding him in place as Loki lent down towards him. They kissed as Tony imagined they’d fuck; completely and desperately but intimate, slow enough to savour, but deep enough to burn, to consume each other in their passion: not wet enough to be uncomfortable, just enough saliva left behind on lips to ease their way into the next kiss, needy and wanting but sweet, so breathtakingly wonderful. 

Some kisses are soft and dry, some are rough and messy; others are hesitant, unsure, more are about taking what you can before the other person changes their mind. Some kisses leave you breathless, gaping and shaking; some are so sweet they make you cry, others make you hungry. Some kisses are passionate, some are pure: ‘some kisses leave all others behind’. 

This kiss left Loki reeling.

When they broke apart, each panting heavily, Loki blushing and Tony swallowing convulsively, Tony whispered, “I want you.” 

**The End**

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed. 

Sorry if it ended abruptly? I was going to make it a Big Bang, but I ran out of time… Oops!


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